


Memories Can't Wait

by gamerfic



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, F/F, Force Sex (Star Wars), Identity Issues, Memory Alteration, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-20 19:56:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17029005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamerfic/pseuds/gamerfic
Summary: You're being followed,the General whispers in Siani's head.(Or: what if Revan didn't stay on theEndar Spirepost-brainwashing?)





	Memories Can't Wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [basketofnovas (slashmarks)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmarks/gifts).



_You're being followed,_ the General whispers in Siani's head.

Siani knows better than to react visibly to this realization, even as she wonders how she knows it at all. Without warning, she alters her path, turning down a side street. She checks her reflection in the darkened display window of a vacant shop ahead of her. Two humans have followed her through the same abrupt turn. Their collars are pulled up to disguise their faces, and their unseasonably heavy coats can only be concealing weapons and heavy body armor underneath. She also wonders how she - or the General - recognizes what's happening so calmly and readily. She's never really thought of herself as the sort of person who would regularly be chased through the Upper City of Taris by armed mercenaries.

All the same, she's always expected someone would eventually come after her for deserting her post on the _Endar Spire._ How long has it been since she left? Weeks? Months? Long enough for someone to notice her absence and care about it. Yet her pursuers don't seem like military police. They wear no uniforms, display no badges, and move without the casual confidence of people who know they have a right to do what they're doing. For all that they look clean and put-together, they're just as much criminals as Siani's neighbors in the Lower City. It's the General who informs her of all of this, the thoughts flashing rapidly through her consciousness without warning or explanation. She still doesn't know where the information comes from, but by now, she's known it to be correct often enough to trust it.

 _Don't go home,_ the General adds, _don't let them follow you,_ but she does not offer any suggestions as to where Siani might go instead. Her advice is often frustratingly incomplete. Siani tries to think of a safe place to hide as she continues to make abrupt turns in a futile attempt to shake off her pursuers, but it's no use. Her mind is blank. They're going to catch her.

When she veers into the dead-end corridor she knows at once that she's made a mistake. But it can't be undone. She remembers something else the General once told her: _when you can't run, you must stand and fight._ So she turns to face the humans behind her as they approach and speaks, her voice shaking only a little. "Why are you following me?"

She's anticipating a fight, steeling herself for the hum of a vibroblade or the cold slice of a blaster bolt as it passes through her undefended flesh. She's certainly not expecting them to fall at her feet, their hands open, their eyes downcast. "Master," one of them says, awestruck. "They told us you were dead."

Siani can't disguise her shock. "What are you talking about?"

"We understand," the other one says, knowingly. "We're fugitives, too. But we would know you anywhere. We fought at your side in the Mandalorian Wars."

Siani hadn't been anywhere near the Mandalorian Wars - at least, she doesn't think she was. She must have been on the _Endar Spire_ at the time, but she can't really recall if the crew saw any fighting. _It must have, right? There weren't many Republic ships in this sector that didn't see at least a little fighting. Then why don't I remember it?_ She shakes her head, still unsure of what to say to the two humans kneeling before her. "I think you have me confused with someone else."

A woman's voice rings out, confident and strong, from somewhere nearby. "Get away from her."

The two humans scramble to their feet and whirl toward the sound. A young woman - brown-haired, fair-skinned, beautiful - stands in the corridor junction. Her posture relaxed yet plainly battle-ready. Her simple brown robes and the lightsaber hilt at her belt mark her as a Jedi. A strange recognition stirs in Siani at the sight of her - whether from the General or from herself, she can't say. When the Jedi speaks again, her words are infused with the terrifying, preternatural calm that only comes from training in the Force. "I have no desire to harm you. But if you remain here, you will leave me no choice."

There's a shimmer in the air behind the Jedi. Two more people materialize there, wearing dark robes over silver body armor. _The uniform of the Sith,_ the General murmurs. "Behind you!" shouts Siani to the Jedi, but the Jedi is already grabbing her weapon and dropping into a fighting stance. Ozone scents the air as lightsabers ignite - each of the Sith wielding a red saber, the Jedi a double-bladed yellow one.

One of the Sith lunges immediately for the Jedi. Their blades clash with a deafening electric hum. The other one turns their attention toward the two humans. A strange shiver runs through Siani's whole being as she realizes, _That's the Force. Wait, how do I know that?_ Waves of power break over her pursuers, going to work on their thoughts and allegiances. _The power of the dark side._ As one, they straighten, turn away from her, and draw blasters from beneath their heavy coats. Then, Siani forgotten altogether, they aim their weapons at the Jedi.

If Siani were wise, she would take advantage of this distraction to escape and leave the Jedi to her fate. But she has never been wise. Stranger yet, she can't deny she feels an unexpected connection to this woman, some sense of obligation as if her fate is bound up with Siani's own. So she draws her own blaster from the concealed holster within her jacket and thumbs the safety off. _Guess this is just another thing I don't understand,_ she thinks.

Siani takes her time lining up her first shot. She (or perhaps the General) knows that the first strike of her ambush will be the most powerful, and she has to get it right. Fortunately, the Jedi is holding her own for now. The twin blades of her saber deflect the mind-controlled humans' blaster bolts as they parry the Sith warriors' attacks. It's an impressive feat, but it won't be enough to save her. That's where Siani comes in.

The Jedi fights fluidly, artfully, tirelessly. The Force plainly guides her steps. Siani thinks she could watch her do this forever. But one of the Sith's minions has moved into her sights, so she steadies her aim and pulls the trigger. Blue rings of energy slam into the human's back. They collapse to the tiled floor, stunned.

In the meantime, the Jedi gets past one of the Sith warriors' guard. One of her lightsaber's blades slashes across their midsection, and they crumple. The remaining warrior turns toward Siani, distracted by her blaster fire. His mouth, barely visible beneath his chrome helmet, twists into a sneer. "You should have stayed dead," he says to Siani. "In the name of Darth Malak, I will finish this."

An invisible fist closes around Siani's neck. She feels herself being lifted up until the tips of her toes barely brush the floor. She tries to talk, then to scream, but no sound and no air escapes her closed-off throat. Her blaster tumbles from her grip as her hands rise involuntarily to her neck, although there is nothing there to pry away. The edges of her vision begin to go dark.

The pressure lets up just as quickly as it began. Siani falls clumsily and lands hard on her hands and knees. A strangled cry, a heavy thud, and the Sith warrior drops next to her with a sizzling, blackened hole punched through the center of his chest. Siani lifts her head to see the last human facing down the Jedi alone, looking confused and alarmed. _Makes sense,_ thinks Siani. _No more Sith, no more mind control._

"General..." the final survivor begins.

The Jedi lowers the blade of her lightsaber at him. "If you value your life," she says sternly, "leave this place and forget what you saw." Without hesitation, he sprints away.

Siani stands up unsteadily and retrieves her blaster from where it skidded away. The Jedi still hasn't shut off her lightsaber, but her face is soft and curious as she regards Siani from across the corridor. Her gaze flickers toward the unconscious human on the floor. "Your blaster was set to stun. Why?"

"Why not? Those people were confused, not evil. I don't really understand why they were following me, but whatever they were doing, they didn't deserve to die for it."

The Jedi's face is blank and unreadable. She thumbs a switch on her lightsaber, and the twin blades vanish. "Perhaps not. But more of them will seek you out."

Siani holsters her blaster. "Then I'd better get out of here."

"Indeed."

"Thank you. I don't really understand how or or why, but you saved my life."

The Jedi squares her shoulders and seems to come to a decision. "I watched them follow you all the way from the Lower City. These people already know where you live. It isn't safe for you to go home yet."

Siani sighs. "Great. I'd better figure out somewhere else to stay for a while."

"Or you could come with me."

And it's the General more than Siani who immediately replies, "Then lead the way."

* * *

The Jedi takes Siani to a nondescript efficiency apartment in the Middle City - the sort of place inhabited by people too rough around the edges for the Upper City, but not quite unfortunate enough to be consigned to the Lower City. The sort of place, in other words, that no one would ever look twice at. Its interior is shabby but clean, ascetic and spare like an apprentice's cell in a Jedi temple, which Siani supposes is only appropriate. As soon as the featureless metal door seals itself behind them, Siani feels safer than she has in weeks. No one could possibly find her here, because no one has any reason to look here.

"Are you hungry?" the Jedi asks, and Siani nods eagerly. She'd been on her way home after collecting her payment from a private security gig, and she'd been eager to spend her hard-earned credits replenishing the bare pantry in her sad rented room in the Lower City. Soon the Jedi is busying herself in the apartment's tiny kitchen, and Siani is trying her best to stay out of the way. She'd offer to help, but she's not sure how the Jedi would take it - or what Siani herself would mean by it, honestly.

Now that the rush of the fight has faded, Siani can shift her focus to other things - like the Jedi. The easy grace of her lightsaber combat forms stays with her as she moves between the cabinets and the stove. Battle is in her blood. Siani realizes with a start that it's not just curiosity or aesthetic appreciation drawing her attention to the Jedi's lithe form, but attraction - sensual, sexual, and everything in between. She wants to get to know this woman better, even as some buried part of her psyche insists that it knows everything about her already and wants only to sink back into that knowledge again. She drops her gaze to the floor, feeling her cheeks heat up. _She's offering a hiding place. Nothing more. Fantasize about her later, but don't you dare act on it._

So Siani sits down at the kitchen table and forces herself to think of something, _anything_ else. That means replaying the corridor fight in her memory. _The whole thing was bizarre. The Sith following the Jedi following the humans following me...None of it makes sense. What did they want from me?_ She can't begin to guess. She's no one special, no one unique. Just another Republic deserter trying to make a living in dangerous times. Her story is as old as the Republic itself, and as unremarkable as the endless rows of identical doors lining the Jedi's Middle City apartment block.

And then there's the fact that one of them called her "General." She tries to tell herself she must have imagined it, but the more she thinks about it, the more sure she becomes. _Why did he say that? He couldn't possibly have known..._ But somehow, he did.

Siani isn't sure when or why she started calling the voice in her head "the General." She isn't sure where the voice came from, either. She only knows it's been with her for as long as she can remember: an incorporeal passenger who speaks of strategy, self-defense, and information Siani should have no way of knowing. The fight in the corridor is far from the first time the General has given her advice meant to protect her in a dangerous situation. Lately she's been telling herself that it's all in her head, a manifestation of her subconscious and her military training springing to mind when it's most needed. But if those mercenaries, or whatever they were, seemed to know her and called her by that name, it can't be all in her head. Can it?

She forces her thoughts away from the General. Whenever she dwells too much on the "why" and "how" of it all, her stomach starts to feel hollow like she's standing on top of a skyscraper. Like she's hearing terrifying noises on the other side of a door, but her fist is poised to knock on it anyway. She makes herself watch the Jedi cooking instead - not that this doesn't also raise dozens of unanswerable questions. _If she knows those humans followed me all the way from home, she must have been following me all that time too. But why? It makes even less sense that a Jedi would pay so much attention to someone like me._

The Jedi sits down across from Siani at the table and startles her out of her reverie. She sets a steaming bowl of noodles in front of each of them, and they eat. The food is barely better than what the _Endar Spire_ 's mess hall used to put out, but Siani is hungry enough not to care. But even more than food, she wants answers. As they eat she asks the Jedi, "Why did you help me today?"

"The Jedi Council takes an interest in many matters on many worlds."

"That doesn't really answer my question. I don't want to pry into secret Jedi business. I just want to know why you're here."

"The duty of the Jedi is to defend those who can't defend themselves. You seemed to be in danger, so I intervened."

"Sure, but you said those people had been following me from the time I left my house. Which means you've been following me all day, too."

The Jedi's posture stiffens. "It is as I said. The Jedi Council's interests are broad indeed."

Siani can guess what that means. "Seems like the Jedi would have better things to do than chase down Republic deserters. But I'm no Jedi. What do I know?"

At that, the Jedi inexplicably relaxes, though her tone is as clipped and curt as ever. "Your decisions are your own. I have no wish to interfere in them."

 _If she had orders to arrest you, she would have done it already,_ the General reminds Siani. _There is more to all of this than meets the eye._ But all Siani says is, "I'll take your word for it."

There's a pause while they're both eating, until the Jedi says, "Has anything like this ever happened to you before?"

"No. Then again, I haven't been on Taris very long. Do you think it will happen again? If so, maybe I should just find a different planet."

"There's no need to overreact. The Sith wanted me, not you. As for the others, it may well have been a simple case of mistaken identity."

"You're probably right," said Siani, even as the General whispers, _One of those Sith recognized you, too._

When the meal is finished, the Jedi clears the empty bowls away. Siani stands and stretches. "Thanks for the food. They must have lost track of me by now. I should probably be going."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," says the Jedi. "I doubt the ones you saw will be back, but I can't be sure they didn't have allies. It would be safest if you stayed the night."

"You think so?" The Jedi nods nervously, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Siani's eyes flicker around the apartment, taking in its cramped confines and its single neatly made bed. She doesn't need the General to tell her that she has to figure out whether all of this is only her imagination.

Boldly, swiftly, Siani crosses the distance between herself and the Jedi until only centimeters separate them. "Is this really just about my safety?" she demands, staring into the Jedi's startled face. She takes the Jedi by the wrist, feels how she trembles as her pulse flutters beneath Siani's bare fingertips. "Or something else?"

They're kissing before Siani can discern which of them began it, their lips and tongues joining in a flash. "I've wanted you since the moment I saw you," the Jedi breathes, and she moans as Siani's mouth finds the spot where her neck meets her shoulder. It's all too violent, too fast, too unexpected. It's all Siani ever wanted.

The force of the Jedi's passion has driven Siani back into the table. She wraps her legs around the Jedi's waist and squirms as she feels the Jedi's hips rub against her. Belatedly, she remembers that the Jedi might have rules against this sort of thing, and she wonders if they should stop. But it's the Jedi who's panting and pressing against her in an increasingly urgent rhythm, so Siani decides, _If she doesn't care about the Jedi Code right now, neither do I._

The Jedi, slight as she is, is stronger than she looks. She slides her hands under Siani and carries her across the room to the bed. They collapse together onto the firm mattress. Soon the neatly tucked blankets are rumpled and cast aside with the motion of their bodies. The Jedi parts Siani's legs again with one thigh and lowers herself down onto her. They haven't even bothered to take their clothes off.

The wicked heat building at Siani's center is greater than what she'd expect to feel without having already had a tongue between her legs or a toy inside her. _It's because she's not just working on my body,_ she realizes distantly. _She's using the Force._ The Jedi is probing at the edges of Siani's mind, activating the pleasure centers of her brain, bathing her in waves of torturous energy that crest and crest and seek fulfillment. Siani doesn't know how she knows this, either; she only knows that it's happening, and that she isn't about to be left out.

Siani pulls the Jedi closer and flips her over on her back, provoking a strangled gasp from her as Siani raises her leg to meet the Jedi's rolling hips. She quickens her pace as she feels their shared orgasm approaching. When she looks into the Jedi's eyes she swears she feels some sort of bond between them, a shared connection neither of them can break that amplifies their joining even as it shackles them together. She pours herself into that mysterious link, not really understanding what she's doing, knowing only that she wants to visit upon this strange and guarded woman everything that's been visited upon herself and more. Ecstasy like nothing she's ever known floods her body and mind - and she can tell by the bond and by the Jedi's arched back and glazed-over eyes that she feels the same.

"Bastila," she says to the Jedi, who hasn't looked away. "You should have followed me."

And the last thing Siani hears before her shattering climax carries her away is the Jedi responding, "I know."

* * *

Bastila leaves Revan in the apartment that was never Bastila's to begin with and disappears into the night. She doesn't bother being stealthy as she departs, or taking anything with her apart from her lightsaber and her robes. As she walks away she can't shake the image of Revan's face slack with dreams, her body limp and defenseless as Bastila carefully slipped from her sleeping embrace. Could this really be Darth Revan, the terror of the Mandalorians, the military genius who once brought the Republic to its knees? She would never have believe it if she hadn't been there to see it all for herself.

The mental block imposed upon Revan by the Jedi Council seems to be holding - for now. The masters who implemented it are far stronger in the Force than Bastila, and she doesn't fully understand how it works. Her own expertise extends only far enough to verify the integrity of the work and to shore it up where necessary - which means ensuring that Revan will remember nothing of what happened today. Now that Bastila has erased the events of recent days through the unwanted Force bond they still share, Revan will awaken in the morning believing she's in her own bed. She'll carry on with the usual activities of a supposed Republic Army deserter unaware of how many times she's switched homes and lives like this since she first arrived on Taris. And Bastila will continue to follow her and observe her, hoping Revan's aimless wanderings inadvertently reveal something the Council will find useful, ready to intervene as soon as too much of the truth begins to surface.

Bastila boards the tram back to her real apartment, where she'll give her report on the day's activities (well, most of the day's activities) to the Jedi Council. The Masters on Dantooine ordered her to follow Revan after Revan fled the _Endar Spire,_ and they made it quite clear that her posting on Taris will continue for as long as Revan remains there. If Revan ever leaves, Bastila will follow - observing her actions, reporting on any useful intelligence she might inadvertently let slip, wiping her mind again and again so she never learns the truth about herself. How many times have the two of them done this already? Ten? A dozen? And how many more will Bastila have to do it again before something finally gives? She isn't sure whether that "something" will be Revan's mind or Bastila's own will.

She can't stop thinking about the last thing Revan said to her. _You should have followed me._ And her reply, too, was so much more than a flippant claim made in a moment of passion. She really _had_ wanted Revan since the moment she first saw her, back at the Jedi Temple before the Mandalorian Wars. She would never forget the joy of discovering Revan felt the same, or the heart-pounding excitement of their first stolen kisses or their first clandestine night together. The Jedi Council tended to look the other way when it came to sex among its knights, but it certainly disapproved of the love Bastila had grown to feel for Revan - the same love she believed Revan had also felt for her.

When the war came, and Bastila stood with the Jedi Council against Revan despite Revan's eloquent entreaties, she thought it was the end of it. She thought she could consign their romance to the realms of fond yet regretful memory. Even when she was ordered to join the strike team for the final assault on Revan's flagship, she told herself their history meant nothing to her. She was wrong. The first sight of Revan, even masked and hooded, brought everything rushing back. Later, she told the Jedi Council that she didn't understand why she'd needed to save Revan, or why the Force bond had formed between them. It was all a lie.

Bastila doesn't know where they go from here, except back into the same pattern that has steered them both wrong so many times already. As the tram whisks her back to the beginning of the cycle all over again, she stares at her own face, warped and darkened in the windowpane of the train car. She wishes she could be a better Jedi than these shameful base emotions will permit, and she knows she never will be. There is already so much she wishes she could forget.


End file.
